


One Starry Night

by Antigonesev



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-25 12:12:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4960135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antigonesev/pseuds/Antigonesev
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Late one starry night, Hawkeye takes advantage of the quiet and the stars with his lover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Starry Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kyntha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyntha/gifts).



> This is a gift for Kyntha: bless her heart, she’s a wonderful human being and you HAVE TO go check out her writing. Go do it then come back and tell me that she is just awesome. This is for all the other authors in the fandom, even if Hawkahy isn’t your cup of tea.

It was one of those long nights. OR had been busy with casualties, people flitting in and out and occasionally, there would be screaming and shouting when a burst artery would squirt out and surprise one of the doctors with their ferocity. The people were fighting to live, fighting to leave, and fighting to just breathe one more breath- to make it to the next day. Surgeon or patient, everyone had a common goal; and that was to simply live. 

John Mulcahy was hunched over a patient, beads clutched in his hand and a gentle hand over a limp one. The patient was merely asleep; the priest merely waiting and biding his time. Blue eyes met blue across the room, and a dark-haired surgeon smiled. Spectacles glinted in the artificial light of the Post-Op ward. 

“Father, we need to have a word. I think Private Jackson may need some extra help from your department, if I read him right.” the tall surgeon said with a soft sigh, leaning over the bed that the blond-haired priest was sitting on. 

“Always glad to be of help, Hawkeye.” the smaller man replied with a nod. A battered Panama hat moved from the bed to the top of the priest’s head. Mulcahy nodded and stood. 

“You could do some good talking with him- I talked with his CO and he seems big on your guy.” Hawkeye began, opening the door out of Post-Op, pausing to let the smaller man go ahead of him. 

“Of course, I’ll do what I can.” Mulcahy said with an affirmative nod, the two drifting towards a nearby supply tent, just behind Post-Op. Dark blue eyes glanced quickly to the side, the entire compound was deserted, and the only sound was of the wind whistling through the grass, and the gentle snores from tents. 

“ John--.” Hawkeye breathed, as the stars glittered above the men below almost in a silent blessing. “I- “

“No words are needed, Hawkeye.” John Mulcahy whispered, leaning into the taller man to bestow a gentle kiss upon lips parted with a gentle breath. The two men kissed gently, and gentle kisses turned into a fierce hunger for more. The two held each other gently, hidden in the shadows of the supply tent and the back of the Post-Op ward. Not the smartest place, but one of the best places to be at the moment. 

John cupped Hawkeye’s cheek with his hand, light blue eyes boring into a pair of pained blue eyes. “Everyone lives, Hawkeye. Life is good.” John moved his hands further up to cradle the back of his companion’s neck. 

“John-.” Hawkeye replied with a nod, sighing into Mulcahy’s mouth, drawing comfort from the warm, familiar touch. “I think we’ve talked enough, hmm?” Hawkeye was more composed, more sure of himself, and now more determined to make the most of the rare moment alone. 

Moving further up the building, Hawkeye leaned forward and nudged John up to sit atop a metal drum. “A more fitting use for these things.” Hawkeye replied lecherously, sliding his hands along John’s legs to cup his rear end. Mouths met slowly, and the two leaned into each other, sharing the warm heat each body generated. Soon, heat wasn’t enough. flesh was needed, craved, and now. 

A hand slid up a taut black T-shirt, slipping under to hungrily take in the touch of taut flesh, tight and strong from years of boxing and now the hard work of an orderly. Fit legs moved to wrap around Hawkeye’s waist, drawing the taller man even closer, if that was possible. A panama hat fell from John’s head, to hit the ground without any notice. Gravel crunched slightly under worn boots. 

“Hawkeye? Are you out here?” a voice called out, BJ from the tone of gentle inquiry. 

“Don’t breathe.” Hawkeye whispered into John’s mouth, his groin twitching at the prospect of getting caught. He knew it was trouble, but at the same time, the thrill of the game was too much. Gravel crunched closer, and Hawkeye’s lips slid from John’s lips to his ear. “John.” he whispered, as he could feel John nod wordlessly and soundlessly. Fingers slipped slowly from waist to groin, and left a parting squeeze in farewell, as Hawkeye moved away from Mulcahy, missing the warm heat of his lover. 

“Yeah, I’m over here, having a word with Father Mulcahy.” Hawkeye said as he slipped into the good night, the stars twinkling with promise, and a hidden heat in Hawkeye’s words meant for Mulcahy’s ears only. “He had to go to his tent.”

Long minutes later found the two lovers reunited in Mulcahy’s tent. The two took their time gently, the ferocity of their earlier union sated- they now had all night- no more wounded, no more confessions, no more Korea- it was just them for the entire night. Hawkeye took John in his arms, leaning over him to kiss him, and then climb over him. Leaning back, Hawkeye grinned his lecherous grin. 

“Well, John- want to play doctor?” Hawkeye quipped, sliding a black T-shirt off of John, his hands going to the belt and pants below the belt while John shook his head with a silent laugh, glasses set on the bedside table. 

“Hawkeye!” he chided lightly as he moved to undo Hawkeye’s own uniform in turn. “You’re overdressed, you know.” 

“I wouldn’t have thought you a fellow nudist.”

“Mm-hm, don’t talk with your mouth full.” John murmured huskily. “It’s bad manners, Hawk--Hawkeye.” Gentle fingers wound through black hair threaded with silver. For the longest time, shadows danced in the dim light of John’s tent. The two men were busy with drawing pleasure from each other’s bodies, and they strove to leave each other sated by the end of the night. Bodies collapsed upon each other, spent and not caring about the mess they had left behind. Hawkeye curled up, John behind him in the position of big spoon. A blanket was drawn up over the both of them. 

“Goodnight, John Mulcahy.”

“Goodnight, Benjamin Pierce.” John whispered, the two men kissing each other a gentle goodnight, almost as if reminding each other that they were human beings, and not part of the war machine that stormed outside of the walls of their small fortress. 

The dark night broke gently into morning, and the light broke over the mountains. It crept over the camp, bringing to light what the night had hidden.


End file.
